The Story in the Box
by bailey80
Summary: Christine is determined to discover the truth behind a mysterious box she finds in her parents' closet. Along the way she uncovers their story of love, heartbreak and faith.
1. Russ

_Author's Note: This story is actually two stories rolled into one. Chapters will alternate between Christine & Parker in the present learning the story of Booth and Brennan and one shots into what life was like growing up as Christine Booth. Story will be updated on Mondays & Wednesdays until complete, though it may not post every week. Reviews will be greatly appreciated. _

_Thank you for reading. :)_

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_**Chapter One:**_

It was a small silver box with light blue stripes. She had found it in her parents' bedroom closet, buried deep in the back, hidden beneath stacks of winter clothing. She wasn't trying to be nosey. She was just cold. She had gone into their closet to retrieve one of her heavy sweatshirts that her mother hadn't brought out yet and had stumbled upon the box.

It was all perfectly innocent.

She didn't have quite such a good reason for why she had opened the box. Except that it was shiny and mysterious and she had never been able to resist that kind of temptation. It was like the time when she was four and had heard a strange sound outside. She'd driven her Barbie jeep so far into the woods behind their house that she'd gotten lost. It'd taken her parents, her brother, and a particularly frantic game of Marco Polo to rescue her.

Her mother had scolded her for going outside of her predetermined perimeter. Her brother had reminded everyone that none of this was in any way his fault. She'd presented them all with what she was convinced was a new species of flower that she'd found; happily babbling on about wanting to discuss this discovery with her Uncle Jack. And her dad had been prompted to install a mini GPS into her motorized toy.

With this and other memories in mind, she rationalized that they shouldn't be surprised that she had found the box. They actually should have been expecting it. Besides, if either of them had found something similar in her room they most certainly would have helped themselves.

Half an hour later, her desire for a sweater long forgotten, she sat cross legged on their closet floor surrounded by pictures, newspaper clippings and other random treasures. Looking around at the mess she had made she was suddenly very happy that her parents were in Florida attending a forensics conference this weekend.

Thinking that all this was lost on her alone she fished her cell out of her pocket and gave the command to voice dial. Always protective, he answered on the first ring and she decided to jump straight to the point.

"Parker, why would my mom have a blonde wig?"

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Christine had placed the items back into the box, and moved everything to the kitchen table. She was busy organizing the contents by item type and size when her brother walked in.

"I suppose a simple 'this is a bad idea' wouldn't go very far here, would it?"

"Probably not."

"Chrissy." He was the only one who could get away with calling her that name. He tried to give her a patented Booth warning glare but she called him on it.

"That doesn't work when Dad does it. What makes you think it'll work for you?"

"Dad and Temperance are going to kill you."

"No they won't. They love me." She shot him a confused look at the idea that either of her parents would be capable of harming her.

"It was just a figure of speech."

"Oh." She never resembled her mother more than when she was being overly literal, which was fairly often.

Parker knew he was fighting a losing battle. He joined her at the table and began to look through the strange assortment of items in front of him.

"What are you hoping to accomplish here?"

"This is their story. I want to know how Mom and Dad fell in love."

"Ever think about asking them?"

Christine rolled her eyes. "They talk about it all the time. But I know that they're leaving out all the good parts."

"Ever think that maybe they're leaving out all the bad parts?"

"Either way, I think I deserve to know the entire story."

"Am I just here because you know I'll take the fall for you if we get caught? Because that may not work this time."

"Yes it will."

They held a brief staring contest. Parker, as usual, blinked first. "Fine. I'll stay."

"Good. Because I already called my nanny and told her that her services were no longer needed this evening."

Parker gave up and began to rifle through the items lying on the table. "This is all random. How is this going to tell you anything?"

"They kept all this for a reason and I intend to find out why."

"How? By osmosis?"

"That wouldn't work."

Parker nodded at the incredulous look that she gave him.

"I plan to ask questions. And to do it in such a manner as to not raise any suspicions," she said as she returned her attention to the items that were laid in front of them.

Her confidence amused him and he was content to play along.

Christine frowned as she studied a piece of yellowing paper in her hand. "This says that my grandmother died in 1998."

"So?"

"Then why was her funeral in 2004?"

Parker took the announcement out of her hand and read it for himself. "That's weird. Dad knew Temperance in 2004; neither of them has ever mentioned this?"

"No. They said Max and my grandma got mixed up with some criminals and that they had to run away to hide. That's why Mom was in foster care in high school." Christine ran her finger along the black and white picture of her grandmother on the obituary card. "They talk about my grandma sometimes, I know that's who I'm named after but they've never mentioned anything about when she died."

"Maybe whoever they were running from killed her." Parker studied the paper with a puzzled expression, "How old is Temperance?"

"She's forty nine."

"Then she would have graduated from high school in-" Parker stopped to do the math but his sister was several steps ahead of him.

"1994. Can you not do math in your head? Subtraction is a basic function of arithmetic."

"Do you want me to help you or not?"

"Sorry. I sometimes forget that not everyone is as intelligent as I am."

Parker knew a sincere apology from his sister when he heard it. "Maybe you could ask Russ? He should know what the delay was about."

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"Mom passed away in '98 but we didn't know that until '04."

"Why did you have a funeral if it'd been so long? What's the point?" Christine had only been to one funeral, when Pops died. That'd had been held just a few days after he passed. Her mother had taught her then about the anthropological significance of burial rites and she knew that in most cultures a service and burial were held as soon as possible.

"Funerals are for the living, they're not for the dead. We needed the closure."

"Because you were sad? You and Mom must have assumed she was dead by then."

"I'm honestly not sure what I assumed had happened to them." Russ paused, reconsidering how much he should tell his niece. Temperance had always made a point of being very open with her daughter but still he wasn't sure exactly what Christine did and didn't know. "And your mom and I weren't close back then."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I left her too. I wasn't much older than you and I freaked. I left. I didn't come back into her life until after she'd met your dad and they'd found Mom."

Parker leaned in, interested in what he could learn. Temperance's childhood had always been a taboo subject with his father, and he was eager to hear more.

"Dad was the one who found my grandmother?"

"No, Booth was the one who found me. Tempe found Mom."

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_The last conversation he'd had with his sister had been an argument. She refused to listen to him. How was he supposed to take care of her when all she would do was scream at him and argue about every issue they faced? He didn't buy the right laundry detergent, he put too much salt in the chili, he made her late for school. Nothing he did for her was right. Why couldn't she see that his heart was in the right place? That he loved her?_

_Finally, he got tired of fighting. She would never let him take care of her the way that he wanted to. Besides, every adult he knew was telling him that he couldn't do it. That she would be better off without him. They told him that the state would find a good home for her. That she would be fine. They were holding each other back. _

_But still he worried. For months he'd wake up every morning and have to force himself not to go back and get her. He cried. He was a nineteen year old man and he spent every night crying like an infant. His parents were gone. They'd abandoned him and though he had a hazy recollection of once being someone else, an inbred knowledge that he had something to fear he still couldn't justify why they'd just run away._

_He never stopped worrying about his sister. What if him leaving had left her open to the danger? What if they found her? Killed her? He'd abandoned her just like their parents had. He kept track of her enough to know how to contact her. He tried to talk to her on every birthday. But she never answered. He'd talked to three different sets of foster parents, they'd all seemed nice. None of them could get her to come to the phone. His sister hated him. He didn't blame her. _

_He worried about her being alone. Temperance had always lived much of her life in her head. She had trouble communicating with other people. Social interactions were hard for her. He reassured himself that her superior intellect would be what saved her. She was too smart to fail. Even with the weight of the whole world on her shoulders his little sister wouldn't give up. It came as no surprise to him when he read her name each semester on the Dean's List of Northwestern University. No shock when he saw her listed as a doctoral candidate in one of the most elite schools in the country. He was bursting with pride when she was named Chief of Anthropology at the most prestigious lab in the nation. He bought a dozen copies of her first book and gave them to all his friends. They asked why he didn't talk about her more often. He dodged the question._

_When the FBI showed up, flashing a picture of his mother and telling him that his sister had made the identification he saw more than just a man with a gun and a badge. He saw a man that had traveled hundreds of miles to track him down. To blackmail him into helping his sister. He knew then that Temperance would be okay. He never again worried about her being alone._

_He and Temperance had chosen a headstone and planned a simple, secular service. They buried their mother just outside of Washington. The wind made the early winter air feel thirty degrees colder than it actually was. Huddled beneath his heavy overcoat, Russ studied his sister carefully. The stress and pain of discovering their mother's bones were etched into her features. Her brow furrowed her eyes red rimmed from crying. But she remained stoic, shoulders high and straight, chin lifted even when it was quivering as she fought off tears. Classic Tempe, unwilling to admit her vulnerabilities to anyone but unable to keep them completely hidden either._

_As the casket was lowered into the ground he noticed Temperance lean closer into her partner's side. Watched as Booth's hand found its way around her waist, steading her on her feet even as most onlookers wouldn't have realized she needed the support. And he smiled. Booth was a good man. Even if he was also decidedly one of the good guys. He watched as Booth silently and efficiently protected and comforted his sister while she allowed herself only the tinniest moments of grief. He knew that no matter how much toil taking her mother's dry, dismembered bones into her hands had taken on her, that Tempe would be just fine._

_And the next year, when he called her on her birthday, she answered the phone._

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"Your mother is the strongest person I know. What she was able to do with her life, despite all the challenges she had, it's remarkable. Just like her. She thought she could always take on the world alone. And she probably could have but once she met your dad, she started to figure out that she didn't have to."

"You thought they were in love then? Because they weren't even dating," Christine asked. Her understanding of love and relationships was naïve at best, and this didn't make sense at all.

"Well, Booth was in love with her. It took your Mom a little while longer to figure that out though. What's with all the questions?"

"Just being inquisitive. Mom says that's how we learn."

"Your mom is right."

Parker nodded his agreement with the two of them but remained silent as they spoke. Russ was a nice guy but he really hadn't gotten to spend much time with him. And after one particularly embarrassing incident involving his step daughter while they were all at the beach, he tried to avoid being alone with the man.

"I should go, Uncle Russ."

"You guys need to get down here soon. Meet my grandson," Russ said.

"Mom says we're going to come and visit next month."

"Hey, whatever you're digging into? Don't dig too much. Okay, Squirt?"

"I won't."

"I love you."

"Love you too! Bye."

She ended the call and turned to face Parker. "I can't believe Mom had to do that. How did she do that?"

"Like Russ said, she's the strongest person he knows."

"I'm glad she found Dad."

Parker nudged his little sister in the ribs and smiled, "Yeah, me too."


	2. Vignette One - Max

**Vignette One:**

Christine Booth learned early in life that the word no had different meanings depending on who was saying it. If her mother said no it meant that there was to be no further discussion and that the request in question was not open for negotiation. If her father said no there was usually room for compromise. Or as he called it, "wiggle room." Which, she learned did not actually mean a room in which one went to wiggle.

Whether or not he would give in depended on how much she was able to pull off what he called her, "Bones face" and was inversely proportional to the risk of bodily harm involved. If the vein in his forehead was beginning to bulge, then no most definitely meant no and she knew to stop asking. Grandpa Max's no however, rarely meant no and almost always meant yes.

It was because of Grandpa's inability to say no that they'd ended up in the emergency room on an icy February morning when she was seven. The snow had started to fall on Sunday afternoon and by sunset Christine was staring wide eyed out the window at the bank behind their house. It looked a lot like the smaller slopes she'd seen at Snowshoe, where her parents had taken her and Parker skiing over Christmas break. When she noticed the extremely large cookie sheet that her mother was using for baking, the wheels inside her head began to spin even faster. The combination would be perfect.

Her request was quickly dismissed by Brennan and even more fervently struck down by Booth. The second no she had expected, he was very cautious when it came to any activity that he deemed might be harmful. She had actually expected her mother to be the one to grant her wish. But she didn't argue. She knew a foolish endeavor when she saw one and whining to get her way usually back fired.

Besides, Monday would most certainly be a snow day and snow days meant she'd be left in the care of her grandfather. True to tradition Max never once thought that the hill and pan combo was a bad idea. Booth and Brennan had barely pulled out of the driveway and he was in the kitchen adding nonstick oil spray to the mix for "extra momentum." He instructed Christine to tell her mother that it was a scientific experiment should the topic ever arise in discussion.

He made sure she dressed in layers and wore her hat and gloves. He was being responsible, he'd later claim. But what Max didn't take into account was the fine layer of ice that had fallen over the packed snow during the night, or the fact that his granddaughter's tiny frame would create extra momentum of its own. On her very first pass, Christine lost control of the makeshift sled, tumbled head over feet twice and landed dangerously close to an oak tree.

Max was relieved when she quickly stood up but his relief was short lived once he got close enough to see her left arm. It was currently bending in a manner that an arm should not bend. Never one to cry, Christine held her broken arm with the other hand and offered him a quick, "We're in trouble, aren't we?"

Together they devised a plan to evade suspicion while he drove her to the hospital. She nodded innocently in the back seat while she listened to him tell her father that she had tripped over Gretzky and landed on her arm. Max told Booth that he thought it was "probably broken." He decided to leave out the fact that he could vaguely see bone starting to protrude from her skin. There was no need to make the situation any worse than it already was.

Christine knew to wait until he ended the phone conversation before she spoke, "Good cover Grandpa. Gretzky won't tell on us, he's a good dog."

"Exactly. Only leave witnesses that you can trust. You remember that. We can trust Gretzky."

Max, however, couldn't trust Christine. It only took one stern look from her father for her to turn her grandpa in.

"Max." Booth's fury was barely contained and Brennan wasn't in the mood to try and reign him in. "Let's go talk in the hallway." Christine refused to make eye contact with her grandfather once she saw the vein standing out on her father's forehead.

After reviewing her daughter's x-rays, Brennan held Christine, who was woozy from the medicine they had given her, as the doctors set her arm back into place.

The bone properly positioned and a plain white cast applied (colored casts were for less intellectually developed children per Christine) Booth carried his little girl out of the room while also dragging her mother away from criticizing the orthopedics' technique.

"I'm not satisfied with the placement of the styloid process of the ulna Booth; it needs to be at least a centimeter medial to where it is now."

"Will a centimeter really make a difference Bones?"

She sighed, "I should have just done it myself."

"Well next time Max lets her break something you can."

"Max watching her was your idea if you remember."

"Yeah, I remember," Booth said as he continued to steer her around the other people in the crowded hallway.

"Should we re-visit our arrangement?"

"No, we had a talk and I think this taught him a lesson. Besides, I don't trust anyone else to protect her."

"You do realize the irony in that statement, don't you?"

"The man can protect you and Russ from a hit man, he can keep you hidden from a serial killer for three months but he's stupid enough to let a seven year old slide down a hill on a baking sheet," Booth shook his head.

"Maybe we should try two baby sitters again?"

"One baby sitter, one Grandpa sitter? Maybe, but I'm serious Bones, he was truly remorseful. I don't think we'll have another day like today any time soon."

"It was Grandpa's idea to spray the pan with oil." Christine said sleepily from her position against Booth's shoulder.

"Perhaps you need to have another talk with him Booth."


	3. Sweets

**Chapter Two:**

Parker sipped on a cup of coffee while Christine finished her Diet Coke. The contents of the box were still scattered around them on the kitchen table.

He sorted through the piles of obituary cards and newspaper clippings, "How are you going to get all this back where you found it without them noticing?"

"I have an eidetic memory, remember?"

"How could I have ever forgotten?"

"I wouldn't have." She grinned, pleased at herself for making a joke. Self-confidence was not a trait that Christine lacked.

"I understand keeping most of this stuff. But-" Parker held up a plastic sheet filed with small black and white images, "I don't even know what this is."

"That's a print out of an MRI."

"How do you know that?"

"There's an exhibit at the Jeffersonian dedicated to imaging studies of the Presidents. It's on the tour I give to middle school students on weekends." Christine had been working part time at the museum since she was fourteen. "You've taken my tour. Weren't you paying attention?"

"I was too busy being proud of my little sister to pay attention to the exhibits."

"I don't believe you."

"You're getting better at this stuff then." His sarcastic comment led her to slug him on the shoulder and he laughed out loud.

"You're getting stronger too." That part wasn't sarcastic; apparently their father had been teaching Christine how to punch.

"You think you're funny," she slumped back in her seat.

Still rubbing his arm, sore from where she'd punched him he decided to get them back on track. "All right, don't pout. So why do you think they'd keep Dad's MRI?"

She took one of the sheets from his hand and raised her eyebrows as she read, "Ordering physician; Dr. Lance Sweets. "

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"That's a study we had done after your dad had brain surgery. It was designed to measure areas of deep thought and emotion."

"Why?" Parker wanted to know.

"He had a brain tumor. A cerebellar pilocytic astrocytoma. It was benign, but it had to be removed."

Christine rolled her eyes even though Sweets couldn't see her. Why did everyone assume that kids didn't know anything? "That's not what he meant. Dad told us about the tumor and the hallucinations he had, he's always been afraid that it might be genetic though Mom assures him that it isn't."

On the other end of the line Sweets smiled. Of course Christine knew all about the tumor.

"We want to know why you did the scans. Why were you trying to measure his thoughts?" Parker asked.

"Especially since thought is an unquantifiable unit of measurement. What could you have possibly hoped to have learned?"

"Your dad woke up from his surgery in love with your mom."

"Dad says he fell in love with mom at first sight. Mom says that's ridiculous but he insists it's the truth."

"It may be but he didn't admit that to anyone until after he had his brain tumor removed. That's why he allowed me to conduct the study."

"You were there when Dad had his surgery done?" Christine was beginning to realize that there was much more to the story than her parents had told her.

"I was. It was one of the scariest days of my life. In a lot of ways I was still a kid then. I was a twenty four and my parents had passed away a few years earlier. I was successful early in life but I needed a family. Booth and Brennan had taken on that role for me. I'm not sure I realized how much I was depending on them until Dr. Brennan walked into the waiting room and told us what was going on."

"They weren't together yet but Mom was the one to tell you?"

"They were together in every way but physically Christine. Your mom was with him through the entire thing: she convinced him to go to the hospital; she stayed with him while they did tests to try and figure out the problem and she was even there with him in the operating room. He insisted on it."

"Temperance has seen the inside of Dad's brain? How could she have never told me that? That's so cool."

"I'm not sure that's what she remembers most about that week Parker. When she came out there to talk to us she was trying so hard to keep everything together but I could see it in her eyes. She was scared. I had never seen her look scared before. But like always she was stronger than any of us."

"Yeah, we've heard that," Christine said as she furrowed her brow. Parker noticed the look on his sister's face but he let it go without mentioning it.

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_Agent Booth donating his sperm to Dr. Brennan was one of the worst ideas Sweets had ever heard. He'd pulled every trick he knew to try and talk them out of it. He'd read study after study and was preparing one more last move to try and make them realize why the feelings between them were just too strong for them to pursue this ridiculous idea, when his phone rang. He didn't even bother to shut the textbook he was reading from or turn off the computer before he left._

_If waiting on Dr. Brennan to come out and let them know that the surgery was over seemed long, it was nothing compared to the wait for Booth to wake up. Cam tried to reassure them all by providing medical reasons that Booth had entered a coma instead of waking up after the anesthesia wore off but having valid reasons offered Sweets little comfort. The information didn't seem to be comforting Dr. Brennan either._

_They all took turns sitting at Booth's bedside with her but she never left. Angela all but begged her to eat but aside from accepting the occasional glass of water or cup of coffee, she had no interest in food. Instead she sat. And she stared. Sweets tried to get inside of her head. Tried to psychoanalyze what was going through her mind but the feelings between these two defied conventional explanation and eventually he gave up. No one mentioned that she was allowing her feelings to be seen, no one needed to._

_It was the morning of the third day that Sweets walked in to find Brennan there alone. She had her laptop in front of her, typing while she read aloud to Booth. He felt as if he was invading their privacy and he watched for only a few moments before walking back into the waiting room. For the next forty eight hours she sat, and she typed. And she read. Though unable to consciously process his thoughts, Booth laid there while his subconscious absorbed every word._

_When Booth finally woke up, life became even scarier for Brennan. She left the hospital just a few hours after he came to, and then no matter what her friends tried, they couldn't manage to coax her back in. While Cam and Angela went to check on her, Sweets tried to bring Booth back to the correct reality._

"_Where's Bren?" Booth raised himself up on his elbows and looked around the hospital room, asking the same question for the fourth time in less than an hour._

"_She went home to get some rest. She's been here since your surgery."_

_Booth nodded as he allowed himself to relax back against the pillows. "That's good. She shouldn't overtire herself. It's not good for the baby."_

_Though he had answered Booth the same way each time he'd asked about Brennan's whereabouts, this was the first time Booth had answered back._

_Sweets pulled a chair close to his friend's bed. "Agent Booth what are you talking about?"_

"_Bren's pregnant. Didn't you know? I thought you knew. Something didn't happen to the baby did it? Are they okay?"_

"_No, no, she's fine. But, Dr. Brennan was never pregnant."_

"_Of course she was. She told me she was. Why are you wearing a suit? You never wear suits."_

"_I always wear suits Agent Booth. Whose baby is she having?"_

"_Mine. Why would my wife be having someone else's baby? And why do you keep calling us Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan? You know at first I wanted a boy but now I think that a little girl would be nice too."_

"_Booth I think you may still be a little confused."_

"_I think you're the one that's confused Sweets. I need to call and check on Bren and the baby. Where's the phone?"_

"_Maybe you should let her sleep a while longer. She was really tired when she left here."_

_Booth nodded, "Yeah, I could probably sleep some more myself. Why am I in the hospital again?"_

"_Perhaps you should tell me why you think you're in the hospital."_

_He was becoming frustrated, "I haven't got a clue Sweets. You're the one who seems to know everything around here."_

"_I didn't mean to upset you. You've just had a serious operation Booth, to remove a tumor from your brain. Do you remember that?"_

_Booth shook his head, his features painted with confusion._

"_Can you tell me what you do remember? What's the last thing that you remember?"_

_He paused, still unsure why his friend was asking these questions. "I remember Bren telling me that we were going to have a baby. Then we went to hear the Crue."_

"_The Crue?"_

"_Motley Crue. They performed at the club last night."_

"_What club?"_

"_Our club."_

"_Ours?"_

"_Mine and Bren's."_

"_Wow," Sweets let the word slip before he realized what he'd said._

"_It's okay. I talked to Bren about it, she's agreed to let your band play at least one set a week. I'm thinking I can get her to agree to Thursday nights." _

"_I, I don't have a band Agent Booth."_

_Booth sat up and leaned forward, "Gormogon? You just started I think but you definitely have a band. You're not half bad either."_

"_Uh, thanks," Sweets was starting to realize that the situation was much worse than he could have ever imagined. "Can you tell me more about your club?"_

"_That's a stupid question."_

"_Humor me?"_

"_Fine. Me and Bren bought the club not long after we got married. There's been this Persian guy who's been trying to buy it out from under us but thanks to Caroline and Max that's not going to happen."_

"_Caroline and Max?"_

"_Yeah, they uh, stepped in to help us after the murder."_

"_The murder?"_

"_Jared shouldn't have done it but I'm glad he did. I couldn't live without her. We were lucky that he was there."_

"_You couldn't live without who Booth?"_

"_Bren. I couldn't live without Bren." Booth's frustration was beginning to get the better of him._

_The nurse came in then and interrupted them and as much as he wanted to keep digging, Sweets was also glad for the interruption. If he pushed too hard it would only make the situation worse. The medication the nurse had given Booth caused him to drift back to sleep and Sweets took the opportunity to phone Cam._

"_Hey, is Dr. Brennan awake?"_

"_Yeah, what's wrong?"_

"_I need to know what her new book is about."_

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"Turns out I was right. He was confusing reality with what Dr. Brennan had written in her book. Now whether her words planted the idea in his mind or if he were simultaneously having similar imagery as he slept was always a point of contention between all of us."

"I've read all of Mom's books, there isn't one where Kathy and Andy own a nightclub," Christine said as she stretched.

"She deleted it. She'd never tell us why."

"How long did he think the dream was real?" Parker wanted to know.

"Several days. He'd tell us that he was okay, that he realized that he and Dr. Brennan were just partners but then he'd slip up and say something that made us all realize that he was still confused."

"Why was my mom scared? Shouldn't she have been happy that Dad was in love with her?"

"She wasn't ready Christine."

"I don't understand."

"Neither did your mom at the time. When feelings are as real as they are between your parents; they're terrifying. That's true for anyone but in this case it was multiplied because your mom thought of herself as impervious. Nothing could hurt her, she refused to let it. Letting Booth love her would have meant having to let go of the protection that provided her. It meant opening herself up to getting hurt. If she let him love her and it didn't work out she would lose him entirely. His friendship was something she wasn't willing to risk."

"But eventually she did," Parker said, quickly adding the word "obviously," before his sister could comment.

"Yeah, everything happens eventually," Sweets said.

"I find this story to be quite frustrating," Christine leaned back in her chair and frowned.

Sweets chuckled, "You should've lived through it."

"But that would've been impossible Seets." It was the third word she'd ever said, and had followed quickly after Da and Mom. Seets: the name she'd given him as a baby, and for whatever reason it stuck long after Christine had learned to pronounce her "we" sounds.

"You have been that literal since you were fourteen months old and got upset because I was making your stuffed duck talk. You kept putting your little hand over my mouth and saying 'No, talk. Quack, quack.'"

"Was that when you were living with us?" Christine had been too young to remember that time in her life but she had been told dozens of stories over the years.

"Yep. Built in child care, your mom called me," he laughed. "One of the best years of my life."

"Sorry I moved back from London," Parker laughed.

"If you remember that wasn't when I left. I spent a couple months on the couch after you came back."

"Oh, that is right. Remember the night we stayed up till dawn playing video games on a school night and Dad busted us? He was so mad at you."

"Wow, yeah, I do. That seems like yesterday Parker."

"Not to me," Christine jumped in.

"Are you two going to tell me what all the questions are about?" Sweet asked.

"Just found those MRI scans and wondered why they kept them," Parker answered.

It was his job to read people and he knew when someone was trying to hide something. "You know if you want to know how they ended up together, you could just ask them."

"We will," Parker said as he ended the phone call.

"We will?" His sister asked him.

"Oh, heck no. It's much more fun this way," he grinned. "You want some popcorn? Oh, how about pizza?"

"Ham and mushrooms?"

"From Frank's?"

"Sounds perfect."

Parker pressed the speed dial on their landline phone while Christine shuffled through more papers in the box. She was anxious to find out what came next.


	4. Vignette Two - Christine

**Vignette Two**

When Christine was in the third grade her mother published a children's book. Set in present day Indonesia, "The Bones on the Island," starred a little girl named Rachel who, along with her golden retriever Rex, explored ancient ruins in search of a new link in the evolutionary chain. By spring the rights to the book had been bought by Disney and the movie was released in theaters within months.

That summer, Brennan, Booth and Christine walked red carpets in New York, Los Angeles and Paris. Brennan went on every talk show from Leno to Ellen and Christine's dad taught her what a craft services table was. None of them thought much of it. Until Christine went back to school that fall and realized that her mother was now a celebrity among her classmates. She took the extra attention in stride but it did give her an idea.

Christine considered herself an entrepreneur. By the time she turned eight she had hosted clothing drives for foster children, organized a charity to buy Christmas presents for residents at the local homeless shelter, and ran enough lemonade stands that she had once been featured on the front page of the local newspaper. Her parents always encouraged her in her various endeavors. They had told her that she was a blessed little girl and it was her duty to give back to the community around her. She was sure they'd love this too. At least she hoped that they would. To be safe she decided not to give them all the details. Actually, she didn't give them any of the details.

Booth and Brennan were sitting on the couch watching a hockey game, a compromise they'd made toward the beginning of their co-habitation. She could listen to NPR in the car and he could watch every Flyers game. Over the years Brennan had actually began to like watching hockey. She knew all the players, their stats, and calculated the win/loss chances before each game. Though she still usually multitask-ed and did work on her laptop while they watched.

Booth still hated NPR.

Christine had just left the room after asking her mother to sign a paper for school when she returned with another.

"Why is your school requiring such an enormous amount of written permission recently?"

The nine year old only shrugged as she took her paper and left the room.

Her third trip was during a commercial break and her father offered to sign the form.

"No," she said just a bit too quickly. "Mom did the others. It has to be consistent," she tried to cover.

"Uh-huh," Booth said as he snatched the paper away from Brennan and examined it. "Bones how many of these have you signed lately?"

"About a dozen this week I think. Why?"

Booth carefully pried the permission slip from a paper beneath it, revealing a picture of Brennan.

"Christine. What is this about?" Her mother demanded to know.

"I thought you liked that picture, Mom."

"Do not act as if you didn't understand my question," Brennan said.

"They're not for me."

"Then who are they for?" Christine did not like the look that her father gave her as he spoke.

"Since the movie came out, it's all my friends ever talk about."

"And you've been what? Giving them your Mom's autograph?"

"Of course not," she paused. "I've been selling them."

"I suppose this is why I had that voice-mail from your principal today."

Booth tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, "You know we're going to have to punish you, right?"

"Why? I wasn't going to keep the money. I was going to donate it to the animal shelter. I promise."

"You can't sell your mother's autograph Christine."

"They get to keep the picture too."

"Christine, you knew what you were doing was wrong or else you would've just asked Mom to sign the pictures."

"Yes, sir." Christine began to pout.

Brennan watched as Booth melted at the look on his little girl's face.

"Well, I mean…if you promise to never do it again I guess-" he trailed off.

"Booth! Go to your room young lady and I'll be coming in to remove your microscope. And no coming into the lab this week after school."

"But the money wasn't for me," Christine repeated.

"We've spoken about not whining."

"I'm not whining Mom. This is a really good idea. Why don't you want me to save the puppies?"

"Your intentions do not matter when the manner you use to achieve your goals are dishonest. And now your teacher probably thinks that this was my idea. I cannot allow you to exploit your classmates. Also I believe that some of them may feel as if you're boasting when you ask them if they want to buy your mother's autograph. Right, Booth?" She wasn't asking for him to agree with her, she was honestly unsure if her statement was true.

"Right," he ensured Brennan before turning back to his little girl. "You said for a long time that you wanted to make more friends at school. This might not be the best way of doing that."

"They seemed fine with it Dad. They think Mom is awesome now, I'm making lots of new friends."

Brennan wasn't as concerned with Christine's social life as she was with the staff's impression of her own social skills. "I hope that no one thinks that this was my idea. I have never asked for money for my autograph. I'm already certain that your teacher doesn't like me as it is. This is not going to be helpful."

"She likes you," Christine said.

"Go to your room Christine."

"But Mom!"

"Go," Brennan raised her voice as she looked down at her daughter, "Now Christine."

"But the money wasn't for her," Booth said as their daughter finally stomped out of the room.

"Would you like me to send you to your room as well?"

"Only if you're going with me." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"You are hopeless."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." Booth reached over and closed her laptop, the hockey game nearly forgotten as he pulled her toward him and captured her lips with his own.

"I need to go punish our daughter."

He leaned in to kiss her again, "Let her stew."

"I don't know what that means."


	5. Angela

**Chapter Three:**

Amongst the papers and pictures in the box, a piece of folded gold plastic caught Christine's eye. She could barely make out the faded black writing but the distinctive branding told her exactly what type of bottle the wrapper had once belonged to.

Christine held it out for her brother to see. "Why would they keep a tequila wrapper?"

"What do you know about tequila?" Christine spent most weekends at academic competitions or reading in her bedroom, Parker found it hard to believe that she'd ever taken a drink. Besides, she would've told him. She told him everything.

"I know that this particular brand is made in the central Mexican town of Tequila in the state of Jalico. It was the first tequila brand ever produced, and remains the best-selling even today. It's produced from a plant known as Blue Agave, which is a member of the lily family."

As she continued to rattle off facts Parker realized his little sister actually knew more about the drink than he knew. His understanding of tequila was more rooted in practicality. Like it wasn't a good idea to drink tequila the night before a final or the night before an early morning hockey game with his dad. He also knew that copious amounts of tequila could lead to one waking up in a pile of their own drool in the middle of a frat house, surrounded by empty bottles and discarded undergarments. That was a lesson he had only had to experience once to understand.

Parker had never really imagined either Temperance or his dad in any type of similar situation but he now wondered if perhaps that's why they'd held on to the wrapper; as a reminder of a night that they did not want to relive.

He sighed loudly as Christine ended her list of facts and again asked why her parents might have held on to the wrapper. "No clue but I know who will."

When thinking of tequila and fun and nights of unbridled drunkenness the same person came to mind for both of them, "Angela," they said in unison.

.

.

.

.

.

"Hey sweetie, is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Parker is going to spend the weekend with me."

"He is?" Angela's suspicions were quickly raised. "I thought your mom said that Mrs. Pennyroyal was staying with you this weekend?

Mrs. Pennyroyal was the sweet, widowed, white haired lady that Angela had hired to watch Michael when he was three. She had mistakenly thought it was a full time position and when Angela didn't have the heart to tell her that they didn't need her every day, Brennan had stepped in to help. Neither mom wanted a full time nanny, but between the two of them they set up an arrangement to both employ her part-time, which allowed her to work enough hours to supplement her income. Both kids loved her instantly, as did Michael's little brother Alex who was born a few years later.

"She had something come up," Christine was not an exceptional liar.

"Something?"

"I think she had a date." In fact she was an exceptionally bad liar.

"Mrs. Pennyroyal had a date? Was she going to go dancing after dinner?" Angela knew exactly how to play all of the Booths to get the information she wanted. Christine was probably the easiest.

"Yes, I think so."

"Mrs. Pennyroyal? Who is in her late seventies and just had her hip replaced two months ago is going dancing?"

Parker decided to step in to help, "Apparently she's made a miraculous recovery."

"You know she wouldn't have needed that surgery if it wasn't for Christine and Michael digging the hole in our backyard."

"How many times do we have to apologize for that Ang?" It was like they brought it up every day.

"Why did you call me?"

Christine was relived at the turn in dialogue of the conversation, "you and Mom used to party a lot, right? Before me and Michael were born."

"We still party on occasion. We're not that old you know."

"Old is a relative term Angela and since I am only fifteen, you are indeed quite old."

"You are definitely your mother's daughter."

"And my father's. It would be impossible for me not to be."

Parker would've given a lot of money to have been able to see Angela's face during this conversation. As it was he was barely containing his laughter.

"Is there a point to any of this Christine?"

"Of course. Did Mom like to drink tequila?"

"Among other things," Angela smiled at the memory of many nights spent with her best friend, an adult beverage perched on the edge of the couch, laptop open between them, proof reading Brennan's novels. "But, tequila usually led to the best stories."

Christine could practically hear the smile in Angela's voice as she began to recount her memories. She placed the phone on speaker for Parker to hear as well.

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_His lips tasted of tequila and desperation and lust. His arms were tight around her waist, pulling her so far into his embrace that she didn't think she'd ever get out. Nor was she sure that she desired to._

_And that's when it had hit her. This wasn't a fling. He could never be just a one night stand. If she gave in now she'd never get herself back. And she wasn't going to do that. Herself was all that she had. Her parents left. Her brother left. Everyone left. She promised herself that never again would she allow her happiness to be controlled by another human being. Because everyone left. _

_The sound of the music at the bar still ringing in her ears she watched from the back of the cab until he faded out of sight. He was attractive. She would never deny that there was an attraction between them. His nearly perfectly symmetric features, the way his acromion stood out from beneath his shirt. They were formed exactly as they were intended to be, the bone thicker in the middle, tapering toward the lateral edge. She could picture him in the gym, lifting weights and using resistance bands, working the muscle over and over again until the perfection of the bones beneath the skin was revealed. _

_As her arms had dug into his sides she could feel the angle of his ribs. Jutting out exactly as they should, they were free and unencumbered by the adipose reserves she discovered below the axilla of most males. How many times had he lifted his form from the floor while sculpting the pectoralis major and the rectus abdominus muscles that lay just below the thin cotton of his shirt? She would stake her life that he had a well-defined linea alba as well. Just as she could imagine the way the bones of his pelvis must be formed. His iliac and ischium were out of her sight as well but she could almost feel them grinding above her own coxal bones as she allowed her mind to drift to what making love to him would feel like._

_Then she stopped; because it wasn't his physicality that scared her. Her thoughts about his body were a normal anthropological reaction based in chemicals and hormones and other natural human responses. It was the emotional reaction she was having that frightened the hell out of her. She was drawn to him like a magnet and that terrified her, bringing out feelings from deep inside her that she was sure that she had never experienced previously. _

_She didn't do long term relationships. And she definitely didn't do highly charged, co-dependent relationships. She turned in her seat once more, hoping to still be able to see him. A foolish act as the cab had already taken her miles away. She felt as if part of her had remained with him. She chided herself for being irrational and pushed down the feeling that told her it was already too late. That she had already allowed herself to fall._

_It wasn't until she reached into her jean pocket to pay the driver that she felt the bottle wrapper. Shoved there earlier in the night when her hands had found better things to do. Now she worked the plastic between her fingers as she walked into her apartment, lying it down on the counter. Then she went to throw her clothing, dirty with both their sweat and the smell of lingering smoke, into the hamper, and padded back to the kitchen, still naked. She again wondered what his bare skin would feel like against her own. The air was cool against her unclothed body and she shivered at the memory of his tongue in her mouth. _

_She picked up her only tangible proof of their first night together and approached the garbage can. But she found the wrapper as hard to let go of as he was. She found herself almost unconsciously slipping the paper into a drawer. She fell asleep that night, his essence still filling her every pore. She's never spend another night without him on her mind. Her life would never return to a pre-Booth state. And she found that she could not bring herself to care._

_Angela remembered Brennan telling her about that night with Booth as well as she remembered any sordid sexual encounter of her own. Her friend had rolled the tequila wrapper between her fingers over and over again as they spoke, almost as if it held some sort of magical power. Had Angela been in Brennan's position that night it would have ended much differently. How Brennan had the will power to resist the man, she'd never really understand. _

_Brennan had told her that she was afraid going to bed with him would've been a decision made by the tequila and that she had stopped letting that happen years before. Angela knew that she was only partially telling the truth. Tequila was only half the reason Brennan had ran away. Angela knew just enough about her friend's past to know she was terrified of anything she deemed dangerous to her emotional well-being. _

_And Seeley Booth was dangerous. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

"Temperance is going to murder you for telling her all that."

"Parker! I didn't know you were listening," Angela called out, scolding both of them.

"By the way, you're on speaker," Christine said.

"Thanks for the warning," composing herself as she mentally rewound the story she had just told them, she came to the conclusion that she hadn't given too much information. "Bren won't care. She never would've told me that story if she wanted to keep it a secret. She knows me too well. But if either of you ever tells your dad-"

"I like you too much to do that," Parker said. He knew that Angela was right. His father's feelings about speaking of their private matters in front of the kids were well known. He'd heard his dad stop Temperance from saying too much more times than he could count. The first being while she was pregnant with Christine. By the time Booth finally sat him down to have 'the talk' he already had all the biological information he'd ever need. He was still confused as to how the big words Temperance had used actually correlated to real life though and the his dad's talk definitely proved useful a few years later.

"When did this happen? When did they have their first kiss?" Christine asked.

"Oh, wow," Angela tried to remember the year but came up blank. "It was a long time ago. During the first case they worked together. Your mother had an altercation with a judge and Caroline Julian wanted her fired. Booth thought the news would go over easier if he got her drunk first."

"Sounds like it worked." Parker decided to file that information away as another benefit of alcohol. "If Dad fired her then, how'd they end up working together?"

"We solved the case. When Caroline realized that she couldn't get a conviction without Brennan and the Jeffersonian she changed her mind. It was over a year before Brennan would agree to work on another forensic case though. But that had more to do with her being afraid of her own feelings than anything to do with Caroline."

"Mom and Dad are happy together, I don't understand why you keep saying she was scared. Why would she be scared to be happy?"

"She wasn't afraid to be happy. She was afraid she wouldn't be. She didn't believe relationships could last long term. So why start something that was only going to end?"

"Guess Dad proved her wrong, huh?" Parker asked.

"That he did," Angela's voice sounded muffled as she turned her attention away from the phone. "Hodgins is yelling for me, I should go."

"Okay, thanks for your help Ang," Christine added reaching for the cell phone.

"Wait, you never told me why you-" Angela's sentence was cut short by the clicking of the end button.

"She doesn't need to know why," Christine told her brother.

Parker nodded. "Probably better that way."


	6. Vignette Three - Booth

_Author's Note: I apologize that this was not posted last week. My grandmother passed away on Tuesday and I had to sit aside fandom for reality. I want to thank each of you for reading & reviewing this story and I hope that you continue to enjoy it. A special thanks to Natesmama for all her beta help and to her and all of my "Bones" friends for being there for me last week. Love you guys!_

* * *

**Vignette 3:**

"Christine!" Her father's voice boomed through the hallway and shattered the silence of her bedroom.

Laying her textbooks aside, she slid out of her bed and met him at the door, "Is something wrong?"

He ran a frenzied hand through his graying hair as he paced back and forth just outside of her door. "Is something wrong? Is something wrong?" his voice increased in volume as he repeated her question.

"You've said that twice."

"You just got a delivery," he walked into her room but continued pacing as he spoke. "Flowers. And a card. A card, thanking you 'for yesterday.'"

Her face lit up. She had never gotten flowers from a boy before, except from her father and Grandpa, but they didn't count. "From Bruce?"

"Yes, from Bruce."

"Why do you keep repeating everything that I say?"

"What happened yesterday Christine? Why is this boy sending you flowers? Who is he? What does he do? Who are his parents?"

"Your face is turning red; perhaps you should stop and take a breath."

"Christine did you go on a date with this boy? Because you know the rules."

She did know the rules: if you make a mess you clean it up. No curse words in earshot of Dad. Mom didn't mind. No back talking unless you truly didn't understand the question. (That caveat was added once it was clear that Christine had taken quite a bit of her personality from her mother.) Never, ever touch any of the guns in the house. And no being alone with a boy until you were sixteen. And maybe not then either.

Which must have been the rule that her dad thought she had broken.

"Oh, no Dad, I helped him with his calculus homework. That's all."

"Calculus? He sent you flowers because you helped him with calculus?" Booth wasn't buying this story for a minute. He had been a teenage boy himself once, and he had never bought flowers for anyone just because they had helped him with his homework.

"He was really struggling."

"Uh-huh," Booth wasn't about to budge. He sat down in the chair at Christine's desk. "How old is this boy?"

"Eighteen I think. He's a senior."

"Eighteen!" Booth jumped up from his seat. Eighteen? This wasn't just his daughter breaking the house rules; this was now possibly a criminal act. "Did he touch you? Did he try anything at all?"

"No! Dad, I promise. We met at the library at school. We weren't even alone, there were people everywhere! You can call and ask Mrs. Hamilton, she was there the whole time. I was in the library doing research for that study Mom is going to let me help with. Bruce saw me and asked me for help with his homework. He said I was able to explain the Leibniz notation to him better than any of the teachers had, he was quite grateful."

Booth sighed and fell back down on the chair. "How do you even know an eighteen year old boy? You just turned thirteen."

"All my classes are with seniors this year. I'm very advanced."

He knew letting her skip a few grades had been a mistake. She wasn't ready for the social responsibilities. Neither was he. "You don't need to be advanced in everything Christine. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I've never done anything with a boy Dad. Never."

He eyes her suspiciously. "Pinky promise?"

She extended her finger and wrapped it around his. "Mom calls these phalange promises."

"Ok, little phalange promise then."

"Technically it's called the fifth phalange."

"Fine. Fifth phalange promise." Booth shook his head, that definitely did not have the same ring to it as pinky promise, but over the years he'd learned when it was best to just let his girls have their way. Vocabulary choices were very high on his list of things to overlook.

"Can I have my flowers now?" Christine was standing on her tip toes, her hands crossed at her chest, brimming with excitement.

"You know that if you do want to go on a date with a boy that your mother and I will have to meet him first, right?"

"Yes, Dad, I know the rule."

"This is about more than the rule, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed because she was anxious to see her gift, not because she really understood. Christine also knew when it was best to just let something go. But her father knew her too well and continued the discussion.

"I need you to know that when you do find a boy, one your own age, that you want to go out with, that we'll be here for you."

"You always are, I know that."

"And if a boy ever makes you feel uncomfortable, if someone ever tries to make you do anything that you don't want to do," his voice trailed off.

"Dad I know. You'll kill him."

"Without a second thought, don't ever doubt that," he held eye contact with her until she nodded and he knew that she understood the amount of truth that was in his statement.

Booth looked at the pictures on her pink polk-a-dot bulletin board. Focusing in on a picture of Christine and Parker on the beach in Hawaii, her pigtails blowing in the ocean breeze. Bones had taken nearly nine years earlier, on a trip they'd taken with Cam and Arastoo, but to Booth it seemed like no time at all had passed since the picture. "You're growing up. That's not easy for me. And I need to know that you understand that you can trust me, that you can come to me if you have any questions. If you need anything at all, I'm going to be right here."

Christine appreciated her father's effort but she already knew that any relationship oriented questions would be addressed to her mother. Or Parker. Or Angela. Possibly even Michael Vincent. Yes, her dad was way down on the list of people she would contact if such a situation arose. She decided that this was one of those times when it was okay to not be entirely truthful. "I know Dad. You love me."

"I love you more than cheese," Booth grinned, using a phrase they'd been saying since she was barely old enough to talk.

Christine nodded, "And you really, really love cheese."

They both laughed at their old joke and Booth opened his arms. His daughter walked into them, and he instinctively pulled her closer, relishing the contact, knowing that his opportunities for a hug would become fewer and further between as time passed. "You know your mother didn't have sex until she was twenty two."

Christine rolled her eyes; he was definitely trying too hard. "But now you guys have sex all the time, right?"

Booth cursed Bones' lax policy on the subject, "Yeah, see it worked out well for her."

"Can I go see my flowers now?"

She batted her big brown eyes and long lashes and clasped her hands together in anticipation causing his heart to melt like sugar and he nodded his head as he stood up from her chair.

He was rewarded with another hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You're the best dad in the whole world."

He picked up a purple bear that lay on her bed. How could someone who still slept with a stuffed bear be getting flowers from a boy? He grinned as he talked to the bear, "I really am."


	7. Parker

**Chapter Four:**

"This is a boarding pass. That's strange."

"Why is that strange? Reminder of a trip; seems like something a lot of people would keep," Parker said.

"Except why this one? Mom and Dad travel all the time. What specifically about this trip made them want to keep a reminder?"

Parker took the paper from her hands and read the front. "Heathrow to Jakarta. May 21st, 2010." Somewhere deep inside his subconscious, something clicked. "This is Temperance's."

Christine was already concentrating on another newspaper clipping that had caught her eye when she heard her mother's name. "I know. It has her name on it," she stated as she looked back up at her brother.

"I know. I just remembered that she spent almost a year in Indonesia once. I guess I had forgotten all about that." Parker shook his head, trying to shake the strange feeling he'd gotten from realizing he'd completely forgotten an entire year out of his life.

"Just Mom? Dad didn't go with her?"

"No, they weren't dating then. I mean, they were friends, but they weren't dating. Dad used to take me to her house to go swimming. Almost every time I came to stay with Dad he'd take me. Her building had an Olympic sized pool with a slide and a diving board. We had our own key but I don't even remember going without Temperance being there. It seemed like we just suddenly stopped going one day."

"Why did Dad stop taking you?"

"He'd never give me a reason. He just changed the subject. Always had some big plan on what we were going to do instead."

"Maybe he got bored with going."

"I always thought he enjoyed it as much as I did," Parker shrugged.

Christine was satisfied with her conclusion despite her brother's comment and she changed the subject. "If Mom was gone an entire year, what did Dad do then? Did he work with someone else?"

"He went to Afghanistan. He told me that the government wanted him to reenlist for one more tour. It was mostly a training mission and they needed someone with experience. I thought it pretty cool at the time."

"He could've been killed," Christine frowned. She didn't even like the adult of her parents carrying guns and being around criminals, the thought of her dad voluntarily going back into the Army upset her. She knew that he had been in the first Iraq war. Why had they left out this information?

"I know. I was just a kid, it was kind of awesome to be able to go to school and tell my friends that my dad was in Afghanistan fighting bad guys. Even if I was really scared after he left."

"But he already had once; he didn't have to go back in order for you to be able to say that."

"I know but the fact that they asked him to come back, that they needed him … it proved how skilled he was at what he did. He was one of the best snipers in the world. I was proud of him. Proud to be his son, I still am."

"He killed people," Christine lowered her voice, as if it worried her to state the fact out loud. It was a subject she'd always been conflicted about and she had never discussed it with her brother.

"He killed people who deserved to die. People who would've killed hundreds of others if it weren't for Dad."

"It bothers him, you know? That he's killed people."

"I know. I asked him once what it felt like. He flipped on me. He told me there wasn't anything to tell. That it felt horrible. Like a part of his soul was ripped out. I never mentioned it again. Neither has he."

"I asked him if he had ever shot anyone. He got pretty quiet. Then he just said yes and walked away. Mom told me what he did in the Rangers."

The subject was starting to weigh a little heavy on Parker and he knew it was bothering her too. He decided to try and lighten the mood, "Did you know that Temperance shot Dad once? In the leg?"

"No. When, why did she shoot him?" Christine bounced toward the edge of her seat causing Parker to laugh out loud.

"She was trying to shoot open a lock; the bullet ricocheted off the door and hit Dad."

"Maybe that's part of why he didn't want to date her back then."

The seriousness on her face caused Parker to grin. "Yeah, I don't think that had anything to do it with at all."

"You don't really know that."

Parker knew that arguing with Christine about anything was pointless and he dropped the issue, "You're right. I don't but it's just the feeling I get."

"A feeling?"

"Yep. A feeling. I think there were a lot of reasons that they didn't date for a while. I'd hear my mom mention it sometimes."

.

.

.

.

.

"_Well Seeley won't admit it but I know she's the only reason he left." _

_Parker was walking back to his room after his shower when he heard his father's name. He wasn't sure who was on the other side of the phone line and he stopped at the corner, just out of her sight, to listen in._

"_No, Parker seems fine with it. He's at that age you know? Doesn't realize the danger. He's just proud to have a war hero for a father."_

_Parker wanted to correct her but that would've required giving away that he had been ease-dropping on her. _

_He did realize the danger. Not a day went by that he wasn't afraid for his dad, that he didn't worry about him. He watched the news every day and wondered if each story about a solider being injured or killed in Afghanistan might be his dad. He just hadn't told his mom that he was scared. _

"_I just wish they'd both be honest with themselves. I worry about Seeley." Rebecca paused, listening to whoever was on the other line. "No, I don't understand why they aren't together either Mom."_

_At least he knew who she was talking to now. His grandmother had never been a big fan of his dad. That was something she didn't make a secret of. He hated when she said mean things about him. Things Parker knew weren't true. He had never known a life with his parents as a couple, like most of his friends had. But his dad had always been there for him. Except for times when work got in the way, his dad had never told him that he couldn't come over. He coached his t-ball and Little League teams. He took him to hockey games and on trips whenever he could. Parker knew his parents didn't love each other but he never doubted that they both loved him._

"_She's a little strange but she's good to Parker. Why he's over there fighting a war he's ten years too old to fight instead of being here with her I'll never understand."_

_Parker watched as his mom nodded into the phone, agreeing with whatever she was hearing. "Yes, I believe she made the decision to leave first. Guess after that he didn't have a reason to stay. Besides Parker told his dad to go."_

_Seeing his mother's shadow approaching the hallway Parker had to make a quick jump into his bedroom, but he heard one more line before his mom's voice drifted out of range._

"_Seeley always has thought with his heart. I hope this all works for him eventually."_

_Parker didn't like the idea that his dad had left because he was fighting with Temperance. He had thought his dad had gone because the Army needed him. That was a much cooler story than because he was fighting with a girl. _

_He quickly decided that his mother was wrong. His mom didn't know his dad as well as he did. Men didn't go off to fight war because they were afraid to express their feelings. In fact Parker didn't even know what she meant by that. He did hope that his dad and Temperance would start hanging out again soon. _

_He missed her pool._

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.

.

"That's all you heard?"

"Yeah, she ended up catching me eavesdropping. I got in really big trouble for that," Parker recalled.

"But you didn't think your mom was right?"

"I didn't then but now that I'm older I think maybe she was."

"He ran away from Mom?"

"I'm not sure that ran away is the right way to say it. I think they loved each other but that Temperance decided she needed time to think about it. And I don't think Dad wanted to be here working for the FBI without her and he took the opportunity to go back to the Army. I don't think he went to the Army because he was mad but I don't think he would've gone if it would've meant leaving Temperance here."

"But she'd already left?"

"Exactly."

"You didn't get to see Dad for a year?" Christine didn't like the thought that her dad had left her mom and Parker alone for that long.

"We Skyped when he could. And it wasn't a whole year. It was more like half a year I think."

"Is being apart what made them realize they were in love?"

"No."

Christine didn't like the way her brother had said that. "You answered that quickly."

"I don't think Dad thought about Temperance at all while he was in Afghanistan."

"I thought you said he was in love with her when he left? How could he not think about her once he got there?"

"Because when he got there he met Hannah."

"Who's Hannah?" Christine never forgot a name. She never forgot anything; she was certain that Hannah had never come up in conversation before.

"Dad's girlfriend. He really liked her. I didn't at first but then Dad told me that he loved her and that I needed to try to get along with her."

"Why didn't you like her? Was she not a good person?"

"She wasn't really a kid person but I think she was a good person. Dad didn't introduce us until she'd already been living there a while. She'd just go stay somewhere else when it was my weekend to stay there. I guess Dad did that just in case it didn't work out, but at the time I thought it meant she didn't want to meet me. Even after we did I only really hung out with her once."

"That was enough to decide she was good enough for Dad?"

"It wasn't about me deciding that. We had a fun day and she was nice to me. I decided I should be nice to her too. Besides Dad loved her, and I trusted him. He wouldn't have let anyone move in if there weren't a good person."

"So you mostly liked her because Dad told you to?"

"Hey, that's how he got me to like you at first too."

"You didn't like me?" Christine acted hurt and Parker knew he had to clarify quickly. His sister often didn't understand humor.

"You were a tiny squirmy thing wrapped up in a blanket. You couldn't talk, couldn't play, what good were you for me? But Dad said he loved you so I figured I did too. As you got bigger I loved you more because you were pretty cool and not just because you were my sister. I think that's pretty much how it always works."

Christine smiled at him. Her signal that she understood what he was trying to say. Then she turned her attention back to Hannah. "Why was she in Afghanistan? Was she a solider too?"

"No, she was a reporter. We watched her on TV and I remember my Mom seeing her on the news one night and when I said that she was Dad's girlfriend, Mom rolled her eyes. But she'd never met Hannah and she didn't know her. She wasn't the best judge."

"Did my mom ever meet her?"

"Yeah, they hung out a lot actually. Temperance seemed to like her too."

Christine was having trouble wrapping her head around the situation and decided to recap. "Mom was in Indonesia alone while Dad was having sex with a reporter in Afghanistan?" Christine couldn't explain why but the thought made her feel sad.

"Your mom wasn't alone. Daisy went with her. Maybe she could tell you if Temperance was upset when she first found out about Hannah. Want to call her?"

They locked eyes momentarily as they both considered the idea.

"No," Christine answered first.

"Not worth it," Parker agreed.

"I wonder how many women Dad was with before he finally decided to be with Mom?"

"No idea. I do know one thing. That Hannah was the last one before Temperance."

Christine couldn't really explain why but the way Parker had said that made her incredibly happy.


	8. Vignette Four - Max 2

**Vignette 4:**

Christine had already been on stage for several minutes when Max arrived.

"You're late." Brennan's voice was louder than she intended. Several of the parents rolled their eyes, while others simply ignored her, having grown accustomed to the eccentricities of the scientist.

"I had an appointment."

"An appointment that was important enough that you put it in front of your granddaughter?"

"No, it was just an appointment that ran late, Tempe. But I'm here now and you know I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

"If you don't shut up Max, we're all going to miss it." Booth put an end to their conversation, earning him a mouthed thank you from the entire family of Emma C, who had been sitting in front of them and hadn't heard any of the recital since Max had sat down.

Brennan began to snap back at both of them but quickly thought better of it and decided to enjoy the moment now and argue with her father later. Then she realized Parker was pointing the camera at the arguing adults and not the stage. "Parker, please film your sister."

This had efficiently quieted everyone and they were able to enjoy the rest of the show, watching together as three year old Christine pirouetted and pliéd her way across the stage. The ruffles on her purple tutu swirled around as she turned. Her brow furrowed with concentration, and her eyes squinted as she made each move with great effort. She had put in hours of practice that were currently being offset by still developing coordination. Her dad and grandpa laughed as she missed a step and mumbled under her breath. "She looks so much like Tempe when she was that age." "Bones still looks like that when she makes that face." Brennan shot them both a stern look to let them know they were being too loud again. They quieted down before Emma C's dad had the chance to turn around and shush them.

As the soft strands of, "Sugar Plum Fairy" faded out, all the little girls bounced to the front of the stage to take their bow. They were greeted with applause and the teachers stepped back to allow the parents to approach the stage and present their daughters with presents.

And of course Christine's daddy was the first one there.

He scooped her straight off of the stage and into his arms; presenting her with a bouquet of yellow roses and daisies. It was bigger than she was.

"Wow, Daddy, they're so pretty! Are they all for me?" Christine looked around at her friends, standing with their gifts and her flowers were the biggest by far. Her face lit up with a combination of happiness and pride that can only be found on the very young. That look was exactly why Booth had sprung for the most expensive arrangement in the flower shop.

"Yep, they're all for you, Jelly Bean." Christine grinned even bigger; she loved when her daddy called her by her special nickname, even though her mom thought she needed a moniker that was more suited to her personality. Brennan understood Booth's need to assign alternate names to those he loved the most but she argued that Christine was nothing like the brightly-colored seasonal candies.

"And so is this one!" Her grandpa greeted her with a giant snow white teddy bear. Sitting at over five feet tall, the bear more than dwarfed the little girl. She shrieked in delight and leapt from her father's arms into Max's.

"I must've done real good!"

"You were the best dancer up there Princess."

"Dad, we're trying to develop a healthy sense of competition and respect for others. There were several girls with more precise technical work than Christine."

"Bones." Booth shot her a warning look.

"But, as far as I am concerned you were by far the best."

Her smile grew exponentially at her mother's praise and she crawled into her arms. It wasn't that Brennan didn't give her child compliments; it was that Christine realized that her mother did not often praise anyone else.

"Thanks Mama!"

"You did great Sis, and I got it all on video so we can watch it again." Maybe it was because he usually only got to spend a month in the summer and occasional weekends with her but Parker never minded going to his little sister's events. His Dad and Temperance always made sure to bring Christine to his games. There was nothing better than having a cheering section of four "parents" and his baby sister. His friends were all jealous because they usually didn't have more than just one or two people there to watch them. And because they thought Temperance was hot.

"Okay, people, what do you say we all go out for some ice cream?"

"Choc-walt?"

"Whatever you want JB."

"Booth I do not see why you need a nickname for Christine's nickname."

"It just felt right, Bones."

Booth wrapped his arm around Brennan, pulling her and their daughter close as he put a hand on Parker's back to guide him through the crowd with them. Christine was still awkwardly clutching the giant gifts she'd received, her mom having to hold both her and her presents.

As they walked away Max poked Booth in the ribs, "My gift was bigger."


	9. Cam

**Chapter 5:**

_I will never forget what we had together. Our relationship will always hold such a special place in my heart. We spoke earlier tonight and I told you that there was someone else: that I was moving on. But please know that what we had was important to me. I will never stop loving you Seeley. Never. That's a promise and you know that I always keep my promises. We both know that we aren't meant to be. We've been pretending for way too long. _

_I know that one day you will find the one that your heart belongs to. Even then a small part of you will always be mine. I pray that we will remain friends no matter where this life takes us next. I am not sure that my heart could handle it if we don't._

_All my love,_

_Camille_

Christine dropped the folded up piece of yellowing notebook paper as if it were on fire. "What the fudge is this about?"

"Fudge?" Parker snickered as he picked up the letter she had thrown on the table.

"Dad gets mad when I drop the F bomb. I don't like making him mad, he gets scary looking."

Her brother nodded. He was all too familiar with his dad's "scary looking" face, having been on the receiving end of it more than a few times.

Christine watched as Parker read the letter, much more slowly than she had and she tried to keep herself from growing impatient. She got up to feed Gretsky while she waited, hoping the distraction would make the time pass faster. When she sat back down Parker was still reading and she couldn't help but notice that he didn't look quite as surprised as she had felt.

"Did you know about this?"

"I knew that Dad dated Dr. Saroyan. But I didn't think that it was as serious as this makes it sound." Parker had a few vague memories of time Cam had spent at his Dad's old apartment. He had one very specific memory of watching cartoons with her on a Saturday morning while his mom took his dad into the kitchen for one of their shouting matches that were common at that time.

"Did your mom not like that Dad was with Dr. Saroyan?"

"I think she was just mad that Cam answered the door when Mom dropped me off. Not sure that she was expecting that and she used to get mad a lot easier than she does now."

'This letter makes it sound like their relationship was intense. All you remember is watching cartoons once?"

"Dad was careful not to let me around his girlfriends. Besides, what would I know? I was a kid." He slid the phone toward her. "Call Cam and we can ask her."

They knew that Cam wouldn't be as straight forward and detailed as Angela but they also knew that she loved them. They knew that they could trust her to be honest with them.

Cam answered on the third ring and Christine gave her a warning, "You're on speaker phone and Parker is here with me."

"Okay. May I ask why you've got me on speaker?"

"Have you had sexual intercourse with our dad?"

Cam nearly choked on the cup of coffee that she had in front of her. "Does Seeley know you're asking me this?"

Parker answered, "Do you really have to ask that?"

"Yeah, I guess not. Yes, your father and I had a relationship. A sexual relationship," she clarified, knowing that Christine needed information spelled out for her much like her mother did.

"Before or after he met my mom?"

Cam thought carefully before answering, "Both."

.

.

.

.

.

_The fog was just beginning to lift from her drug altered brain. Her lungs finally allowing her to take a deep breath._

_The first thing she realized was that Booth was sitting by her bed. _

"_Hey." He leaned forward to stroke her face, moving her bangs out of her eyes._

"_Hey."_

_He could see the worry and confusion written on her face. "You're going to be okay now."_

"_That coming from the doctors or from you?"_

"_Both," he laughed. "The doctors say all your lab work is looking better. The oxygen levels in your blood are normalizing. They expect a full recovery."_

"_And you?"_

"_Ah, I always knew that you were too stubborn to die." _

_He brought her hand up to his lips and let them linger just a little too long. Long enough that Cam realized something was wrong. That there was something off about his demeanor. There was something more there than just concern for her health. She knew him well enough to know what was coming. She had been sensing it for a while, and looking into his eyes then she knew that he had made his decision._

"_We going to do this again?" she asked._

"_Cam, we got too close. I felt like I could pressure you and you felt like you had to listen. And you almost died. We have to re-draw the line."_

"_You and that damn line."_

"_I'm sorry," he bowed his head, and wouldn't meet her eyes. "You know I'm right Camille."_

"_I know. I'm just glad it's you ending it this time and not me."_

"_If I'm honest that last time didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have. We both moved on way too easily."_

"_I remember." She had loved him but it had been easy to let go the first time. They were better as friends, they both knew that. And as his friend she wasn't going to let him lie to himself. "Let's not pretend that there isn't more to this than crossing a line between work and personal."_

"_There isn't."_

"_Dr. Brennan." She didn't need to elaborate; she knew that he knew exactly what she was referring to._

"_No, the same line is there. It's too dangerous."_

"_Yes, it can be dangerous. But for the right person, the rules don't apply."_

"_Stop-"_

"_Deny it all you want but we both know that this thing we started back was never meant to be. It was always going to end. We're not meant to be, line or no line. It's her."_

_He shook his head. "I should go."_

"_Go to her Seeley. Don't mess this up."_

_He stood and kissed her on her forehead, pretending to not hear what she had said to him. "I love you Camille."_

"_I love you too Seeley. And that's why I'm telling you this now. Do not let her go."_

_This time he nodded but still he didn't say a word. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

"If you two loved each other so much then why did you keep breaking up?"

"Christine have you ever heard the saying that if two people can remain friends after a sexual relationship that they're either still in love or they never were?"

"Are you saying that you and Dad are still in love?"

Cam chuckled; of course Christine would get it wrong. "No. I'm saying that we never were. The first time was all about fun and it ended too easily. The second time was out of loneliness and convenience. And it was doomed from the start. Because once your father met your mother; no other woman ever stood a chance."

"I don't know what that means."

"Dr. Brennan became his standard. They weren't dating but he judged everyone he dated against her. And when you're in love with someone you give them characteristics that are impossible to compare with. It wasn't going to matter who he met, because no matter how beautiful they were, how smart, how kind, how amazing, they weren't going to match up to the ideal that his love for your mom had created in his mind."

"Were you mad?"

"At your mother?" Cam asked but continued without waiting on an answer, "Not at all. I've always believed in fate and meant to be. And I knew that Seeley wasn't going to be my happily ever after. I was their biggest fan because I saw how happy she made him. He's like a brother to me and I wanted that happiness for him. Besides, I'm the one who introduced them. Kinda."

"Kinda?" Parker asked.

"I heard about her work, realized that Seeley could use her help and arranged for them to meet. I had no idea that he'd fall the moment he saw her."

"Was Mom ever mad at you? Was she jealous or afraid that you still wanted Dad to be your boyfriend?"

"The only time your mom and I ever had words was over work. She didn't like that I was her boss. It took her a long time to get used to that, and quite frankly in a lot of ways I'm only the boss in title. But, no, we never had words about Seeley."

They ended the conversation without Cam asking any questions. Christine still had plenty.

"Why was Cam dating Dad if she knew they weren't going to be together forever?"

"You can have fun with someone and care about them but not want to make a commitment. It happens more than you think."

Parker understood the type of relationship that his father and Dr. Saroyan had because he had a Cam of sorts in his own life. He had a girl who he knew that he had no intention of marrying or even being with long term, but he loved her and knew that he would do anything for her. They had met in a freshman calculus class at Georgetown and became instant friends. Her name was Sara. She was blonde haired, blue eyed; full of personality and ambition. She was perfect in every way. She just wasn't perfect for him.

"Still, they had sex. A lot of sex. How is it possible that my mom isn't jealous? She has to work with her every day."

"I don't think your mom gets jealous."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just don't think Temperance worries about stuff like other people do."

"I know she's weird."

"No, Christine, she isn't weird. She processes her emotions differently than other people sometimes but not in a bad way. In a good way. She loves Dad, and she trusts him. So she doesn't have any reason to be jealous."

"You're taking another pysch class this semester aren't you?"

Parker grinned, "I am. But I didn't need to take any psychology classes to realize that Temperance was a great person. She gets misunderstood sometimes and people think that she's cold hearted. But that isn't true, if anything she loves too much."

"People laugh at me sometimes." Christine looked down at her painted pink toe nails as she talked.

"Because they misunderstand you too?"

"I think so, yeah. They say I'm not nice. That I'm mean."

"You're very nice Christine."

"I say things sometimes, and I think I'm being honest and truthful but then people get upset."

"It's good to be honest but not everyone can handle the truth all the time. You'll learn when it's okay to just not say anything."

"My mom still doesn't know."

"Does that make you love her less?"

Christine looked up abruptly, "No, of course it doesn't."

"Right. So don't worry when you make a mistake. If you were doing what you thought was right, then its okay. The people that really matter aren't going to love you any less because of it."

"Thanks Parks."

"Oh, and next time those kids laugh at you? I want names."


	10. Vignette Five - Mrs Stonecraft

_**Vignette Five:**_

_Author's Note: As will be obvious when you read this and the rest of the story, I have ignored the season eight finale. This was written well before that episode aired, and my story is only cannon up until "The Pathos in the Pathogens."_

* * *

"Christine is a very bright child."

Mrs. Stonecraft, Christine's first grade teacher, was peering at Booth and Brennan from over top of her glasses as she spoke. It was their first parent/teacher conference of the school year, and though Booth had spoken with Mrs. Stonecraft before, Brennan had not.

"Yes, we are aware of that." Brennan was confused, the teacher's request to meet with them had sounded urgent. "Why are we here Booth?"

"I get the feeling that there's a 'but' coming Bones."

"Yes there is. Christine is often short sighted to the point of being rude to toward the other children."

"I don't understand. Is she teasing them?" Brennan asked.

"No, not quite. It's more just a matter of her manner of speaking. It's as if she's constantly talking down to them Mrs. Booth."

"It's Dr. Brennan. I do not believe the marriage ritual would do anything to add to my love for Christine's father and I do not like the idea of being considered his property. My identity did not change as a result of our relationship."

Booth cut her off before she could go any further with her explanation.

"Christine is a sweet kid. She doesn't mean to insult anyone, but I understand that she can be awkward in her interactions with other children."

"It becomes an issue for me when she makes it clear that she believes she is better than the other students."

"But she is better," Brennan was growing impatient with the conversation.

"She's smarter Dr. Brennan. But that does not equate being better."

"I believe that it does. This is an educational institution, how else would one measure a person's worth in such a situation?"

"This isn't Yale. This is the first grade. We're teaching much more than just reading and mathematics at this age."

"In what ways is Christine not as good as the other children, then? Are you saying that she's a bad kid? That she isn't nice? She is a very loving and affectionate child."

"That is not what I'm saying Dr. Brennan."

"Then what are you saying? I'm still not sure why we were called here."

The teacher nodded. She was beginning to understand little Christine's personality quirks. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to imply that your daughter wasn't a good child. I agree, she has a very big heart."

"Do you mean metaphorically? Because if you have reason to suspect that she has an actual enlarged heart we should make her an appointment to see a cardiologist."

"She wasn't being literal Bones."

"I suspected that. May we go now? I have many more important tasks I could be working on."

Mrs. Stonecraft sighed, "Yes, I just wanted to make the two of you aware of the issue. I don't want to see Christine become ostracized because of the way she interacts with the other children."

They stood and began to walk out of the room but Booth hung back.

"I'll have a talk with Christine about being mindful of other people's feelings. But I won't ask her to change who she is. Because who she is, is a very special little person that I love more than anything in this world, even when she doesn't quite get everything right."

Tired of waiting on him, Brennan walked back into the room, "Should I just leave without you?"

"No, I'll be right behind you."

Mrs. Stonecraft smiled, following him toward the door. "Thank you. And I believe I understand now."

He smiled at the teacher's realization. "Eerie, isn't it?"

"Quite," the teacher agreed.


End file.
